Gallow's birds
by Paper Ballerina
Summary: Esmeralda is loved by all, none more so than Clopin. As love causes her down fall can another's love save her? and can Clopin finally win her love? Notre Dame De Paris Musical based. Clopin X Esmeralda
1. Chapter 1

AN: this has been laying about my documents for months begging to be uploaded. this is my third Notre Dame De Paris fanfic and so far my best, characters from my first fanfic will appear but this mainly focuses on the relationship between Clopin and Esmeralda. please R&R and i hope you enjoy ^^

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He watched as little Esmeralda danced, the multicoloured layers of her ragged skirt twirling brilliantly around her petite forum. The sudden flashes of her bronze, firm legs caught his attention making a smile spread across his withered face. He could not help it; he was enchanted by the small writhing figure darting about the square. Her bare feet barely touched the ground as she danced spiritedly. He could hear her panting softly from where he sat on the steps of Notre Dame de Paris. The crowds gathered and cheered her on encouraging her to dance further, throwing coins and food into her tambourine on the ground. Clopin smiled, normally he would have some of the other gypsies robbing the patron's pockets but he felt charitable today, something which was considered a rarity. It may have been the New Year or Esmeralda's dancing, but he felt grateful for his kingdom of paupers and spared the citizens of Paris their valuables today. She sprung about like a deer until eventually a man clothed like a priest yelled down from the towering grim cathedral before them. She abruptly stopped dancing and gathered her earnings as the priest yelled towards her, pointing and summoning the city's guards. At the mere sight of the man dressed in black, the young Esmeralda ran towards the gypsies king; Clopin with wide arms. She hugged into his waist and stared up at the priest with wide eyes framed by dark long lashes. Clopin held onto the pretty girl keeping her close as the crowds dispersed until only the gypsies were left. He knew that this priest, if he was one, hated foreigners especially known gypsies like himself and Esmeralda.

'Sir Phoebus de Chateaupers, captain of the king's archers. I summon you to chase away all these outlaws' the priest said motioning to the irritable gypsy horde. The group of gypsies started to break apart as more and more guards came to assist the holy man. The priest continued to rambled about "_stopping this horde of strangers"_, standing high above the heads of the penniless, homeless group, as grim faced as any of the gargoyles adorning the spiralling roves. The group of gypsies spat and cursed at the sombre priest, as the guards started to fill the square to remove them from the cathedral steps. Clopin grabbed a hold of Esmeralda's hand as the guards started to appear. He knew how corrupt the city's guards were and knew how lovely Esmeralda was. He also knew she was a young woman now and was bound to find love soon, hopefully with someone that loved her and wouldn't hurt her. No, he wouldn't let anyone hurt Esmeralda; he'd give his life to save her from harm. He felt a sudden jolt of electricity as he felt the soft skin of Esmeralda's palm. The skin was like velvet, unstained or ruined by the cruelty of life. Unlike his own; which were scarred and destroyed by the harsh life he had lived. The hands of a gypsy, the hands of a murderer and a criminal were tainted by his sin and would tell the world of his sin.

Sir Phoebus de Chateaupers, captain of the king's archers appeared in shining armour. He was an exceedingly handsome man with bright brown eyes, a fashionable beard a handsome and youthful face and muscular shape. He stood before the gypsies ordering them to leave the grounds. He, like the grim priest was not known for kindness towards for the gypsies or even the lower classes of his own countrymen. While the city's guards closed in on the pack of gypsies: Phoesbus stood with his arms raised like a god before them.

'In the name of god I'll slay and chase you from sight. All you louts without standing' he said as clearly as the chiming of a bell moving towards the the guards began to drive away the gypsies; Clopin felt a tug on his arm. Esmeralda's small hand quickly fell out of his hand despite his desperate attempts to reclaim it. Lost in the crowd looking desperately for little Esmeralda, Clopin was forced away with the others into the filthy streets and into the shadows.

Esmeralda had let herself be taken away by the handsome solider. There was something about this man that had let her exchange his white satin hand for her trusted Clopin's copper jute hand. He pulled her away from the poverty and uncertainty of her gypsy life and in one single moment she felt safe. She felt at risk at the same time; _this was a Frenchman who hates us, who has caused my family harm _she thought as he pulled her away from her ragged family . She writhed like a trapped animal in a bear trap from his strong grip until she was free. The handsome solider gave a confused and hurt expression but kept his distance. Esmeralda looked like a trapped animal, maybe Phoebus thought so too but she didn't care. She ran whenever he stepped forward and yet she could not run completely from him. Something kept her close to him, something she had not felt before. It excited and frightened her yet it did not blunt her wits, she kept her distance, running from him whenever he got close. Her multicoloured skirt fluttered above her ankles as she ran barefoot almost playfully from the handsome Phoesbus.

'Where are you from, lovely stranger? Daughter of the stars or the earth. Fair bird of paradise why are you here? 'He asked gently until she sat close besides him on the steps of Notre Dame. His voice was gentle yet masculine as he warmly muttered his complements towards her. She herself did not know the answer to the question, not fully. Her mother died when she was young and Clopin looked after her taking her with him as he toured Europe. In her mind France was her home.

'I'm a gypsy. I'm a Bohemienne, I'm a tzigane. Nobody knows my land' she confessed as he slid close besides her. She could feel his uneven breath on her tanned face now as she looked into those deep brown eyes. They were beautiful as they looking almost adoringly at her. She looked down at the ground, feeling herself blush then towards the buildings of Paris. 'I'm a child of the road 'she continued as she felt his gaze on her slender figure. Suddenly he saw his hand rising from the corner of her dark eye before feeling him touch her chocolate hair. He twisted it between his pale fingers, admiring every last strand. She liked being admired. She suddenly got up and stood before him. She extended her hand towards him, a playful smirk spread across her beautiful face. She was extremely joyous when he reached for it but playful pulled her hand away and twirled back onto the square. Picking up her battered tambourine she started to hit it in a rhythmic fashion and started to dance. _He will enjoy my dancing, everyone else seems too_ she thought happily as she started to twirl and skip about the square once more. She began to sing in a foreign language, but from what Phoesbus heard it seemed Spanish.

The crowds gathered once again, cheering for La Esmeralda. Esmeralda felt a jolt of ecstasy as she saw Phoesbus watch her, he smiled as she danced. He was unlike any man she had ever saw he was also very charming and handsome. Her heart beat just a little faster whenever she saw him it was stranger and unknown to her. She watched as Phoesbus inspected an overly rowdy couple before returning to watch her. Her little dance was over, but when she looked up from under her dark eyelashes her godly solider was gone; Phoesbus was nowhere in sight.

She returned with haste to the gypsy's home under the gutters of Paris. The rain clouds loomed over head and growled with promises of heavy rain. Esmeralda ran through the streets, her knife within reaching distance. She had never killed before and did not plan to but these were dangerous times. She felt so happy and dizzy from her encounter with the godly solider it baffled her as entered the derelict building. She walked down the spiral stair case, crafted by unknown hands until she was inside the Court of Miracles. The room was made of stone and covered with exotic clothe hanging from the domed roof and wooden supporting rafters. Posters of circuses and wanted posters of members of the gypsy tribe adored the walls along with graffiti and stolen art. Barrels of food and ale were dotted about the room along with a throne for the self proclaimed king: Clopin. Clopin sat on his throne and gestured for Esmeralda to sit with him on an empty barrel.

The room was barely occupied as it was early yet. The whores would be doing their rounds; the thieves would hide in the shadows all trying to survive. Only three older women, herself and Clopin where in the room, rare considering that this very room was the heart of gypsy life in Paris.

Clopin gentle took a hold of Esmeralda's hand and gentle began to speak. Clopin looked vulnerable and uncertain for some reason, Esmeralda noted as she looked towards him with a warm smile on her face.

'You know, Esmeralda you are no longer a child.' He started, placing his dry rough hand on her shoulder. He could feel the bones poking through the thin fabric; he could fell the warmth of Esmeralda's body seeping onto his hand. He caught himself thinking about the warmth of other parts of her body. He looked away letting go of her velvet hand. It was sweet torture having any form of contact with her. '...You were only eight years old when your mother left. Taken by death to her home in Andalusia... 'He held her hand once more seeing Esmeralda distressed by the memory. 'She trusted you to me and with jealousy I watched over you until today' he could tell from her lack of interest that her mind was elsewhere, he hoped it was on her mother's death and nowhere else. He pulled her soft face towards him, he need her to hear his words. 'You know, Esmeralda. Men are wicked be careful when you run. Do you understand me? You are about to find love, nothing is the same as before '

Esmeralda's eyes lit up. She had run from the captain Phoesbus just as Clopin had warned. She felt different than before which Clopin had also warned her of. She saw clearly know why the reason was; she was in love with the captain. With a kiss on Clopin's cheek she skipped merrily to her room hoping against hope that she'd dream of the captain tonight.

Clopin felt a great sadness as he watched little Esmeralda skip away, unaware of the sin and lust that man could have. He wanted her attention, her love, her lust but now he noticed he had none. He gestured for the women to come over; two of which did while the other left the room. The women sat at his feet looking up at him with charming smiles, looking up out his with dark eyes. He knew he could have anyone woman he wanted: but it was a girl his heart belonged to. He felt the experienced hands of the harlots massage his muscular thighs as they murmured softly. With his thoughts locked on the image of Esmeralda he let their wondering hands proceed, he need relief in the warm inviting curves of a woman.


	2. Chapter 2

_An: Thanx for the reviews you guys rock ^^ I'm sorry it has taken so long to post but your support means alot. Also you may have noticed my pen name changed, sorry for any confusion. Special thanks to Chanpreet, cornique chaylor girl and Oiseau de Nuit_

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Esmeralda lay on her straw mattress gazing up at the roof. Her chocolate hair spread across the mattress as she looked up at the carved stone roof. The roof was damp, grey and dull; there was nothing fresh or pleasant about it. In fact everything about the court was dull and dirty, the more she thought about it the more it resembled a tomb more than a home. She sighed, _why is there no light in this room? _She thought looking from the roof to the blank stone walls, why must they hide like rats underground? She got up from the mattress to light a few candles. The candles burned giving the room an amber glow, Esmeralda found comfort in the warmth...it reminded her of Phoesbus. She sneered looking away from the flickering flames. Why should he affect her? He hated her and despised her family, _but he called me __Fair bird of paradise? Surely he must like me?_ Esmeralda smiled in spite of herself. No one had made her feel this way before; she felt giddy, frightened, excited, breathless the list could have gone on had she let it. He was handsome and fair unlike any one she'd seen before; he gave off warmth like the sun. _He must be a prince! Why else would he be so different?_ She thought excitedly, the smile grew into a grin and her gaze back to the candles. Princes were apparently wonderful. She was different from everyone else and so was he, perhaps they were made for each other....

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Phoesbus walked along the street hand in hand with his fiancé Fleur de Lis. She was a pretty girl; pale blonde hair, creamy white skin, soft pretty features and fashionable clothes, everything expected of a lady of her standing. As they walked through the crowded streets she would look up at him adoringly with her soft green eyes, he couldn't help but smile. He looked down at her thin neck; the diamond necklace he had bought her was proudly shown above her plentiful cleavage, swinging back and forth as she walked. She wrapped her arms around one of his muscular arms, sighing sweetly as she did so; _her maiden's heart is mine_ Phoesbus thought contently. Yet something plagued his mind: the gypsy girl. He could see clearly the image of her bare legs and her writhing to the music, it burned in his mind and in his groan. Even when he was strolling with sweet Fleur he wasn't rid of her. She was dancing around his head making him think of lust. He had not felt lust so strong before, it intoxicated him like a strong perfume. It may have been gypsy witchcraft, but whatever it was Phoesbus did not want it to end. Phoesbus looked down towards fleur before recoiling in embarrassment. Her bright green eyes gazed up at him from her pleasant face while he thought of the gypsy girl. He felt a sudden rush of blood in his cheeks and uneasy looked away from her.

'What are you thinking my love?' She said still looking up towards him. Phoesbus had to think very quickly, he had to think of something to appease her...

'I was just thinking...' he began confidently '...The stars that twinkle in the skies are not as bright as your eyes' he said with a satisfied smirk. Fleur giggled blushing from the complement unaware of her future husband's dark thoughts. Phoesbus smiled as he watched Fleur laugh; she was indeed a pretty girl but not the beauty from the street. He joined her with a small chuckle. She turned and looked up at him with a small smile from her rosebud lips.

'The day will be merry on the day that we marry 'Fleur said with a warmly grasping his arm tighter. All thoughts of Esmeralda faded away as Phoesbus bent down to kiss her. Fleur pulled away shyly walking away towards a fabric stall at the side of the street. Phoesbus had almost forgotten that they were in a busy street but chased after her playfully. _Like the gypsy_ he thought as he watched her skirt lift slightly as she ran. He watched as she marvelled at the exotic cloth, wrapping silk around her small pearly hands. He leaned against the stall looking at her play with the fabric. She was so elegant.

'All the gold that still lies deep beneath the earth I'll use to clothe your body' he said as she looked at the velvet fabric. She turned and smiled brilliantly towards him; he had noted she had an eye for fashion and expensive clothing. He leaned closer towards her, giving the stall owner a cautious look. ' ...your body that you'll give to me' he said softly with a wicked smile on his face. Fleur giggled half from embarrassment and half from pleasure while the stall owner smirked. Phoesbus felt his smile grow even more and picked up her small pale hand to kiss it. The skin was soft and smelt of lavender causing a ripple of desire through him. She sighed happily as she felt his lips on her hand. In her mind nothing could tear them apart.

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Clopin walked around the glum streets of Paris as darkness settled in. Filth and mud swirled clumsily at his feet as he dragged his lean legs through the stinking mass and through the ebbing crowds. He looked over his ragged shoulder at the women from early today. They whispered behind dirty hands and exchanged looks towards him, smiling toothless but still charming smiles at him. Clopin walked towards the harlots as they stood together besides a public trough. They shuffled as they felt his coldness towards them, whatever favour they were shown early was now gone. Clopin gave them a curt nod as he reached the trough, inspecting the murky water with distain.

'Clopin' the elder of the whores addressed him with a raised eyebrow. Clopin gave her a cold look but remained silent. 'We're looking for business Clopin, so make it quick, we have children to feed' she spat at him while giving a well dressed gentleman an interested glance. Clopin shivered as the early winter chill crept into the streets, but the whores seemed unmoved by the climate.

'I'm looking for...' Clopin started before feeling a hand crossing his chest playfully. Clopin looked down to see a copper hand playfully snaking it's away under his shirt collar, before feeling a second wrap around his waist, toying his belt loose. '...Rose' he sighed with a found softness. Rose purred into his ear tonguing his gold earring playfully, as his ridged frame relaxed under her hands. The whores left with their costumers without a second thought for their king, while he leaned into her caresses.

'It's been a while Clopin' she cooed as she pulled him away into an alley way. Without any resistance he willing was lead into the dark alley way. Only a single beam of slivery light lit up the narrow alley way, while the rest of the alley was pitch black. Suddenly he was freed from her tugging and was alone in the darkness, only the sound of her bangles and jewellery tinkling remained him of her presence. In this very moment, he longed to be with innocent Esmeralda, to feel that soft skin and see that pleasant smile. He felt the familiar pang of longing when he thought of her, more so now he was alone. Before he could muse on the events, felt Rose's lips crash down onto his own. His thoughts faded away from longing to lust as he seized her by her muscular waist, pinning her body against a slimy dank wall. As their limbs intertwined in the shadows of the city an image of Esmeralda formed in his mind. As their embrace became more frenzied and lustful, the fast Esmeralda danced in his mind until he reached his peak. After a moment of sheer ecstasy Clopin dropped the almost limp body of Rose like a discarded ale bottle. Rose sniggered as she played with her loose raven curls, Clopin looked back at her catching her face in the faint light. Rose was twenty three years old with a once pretty face that was ravaged by her profession. 'What's the matter mon cher ? Have I lost my charms or is it someone younger you lust for?' she said through a smirk while sorting her skirt back into place , her lips shinning from his own saliva in the light. Clopin growled some insult at her as he made his way back into the street.

He couldn't blame her for her bitterness, her trade relied on youthful looks and there was a time when they were devoted to each other. Before Esmeralda blossomed into a young woman and stole his heart. He had, for a time, loved Rose and she in returned loved him. But it was over now between the gypsy and the prostitute except for the occasional fuck or for companionship. Clopin sighed inwardly; he had spent his entire life fucking, drinking and gambling. Nothing of goodness touched his life until Esmeralda. She was his sole reason to strife on, in hope that one day she would love him. He decided to check on his whores before returning back to the court of miracles, picking up the profits and lifting their spirits with jests made at the French. Clopin could be a cold blooded killer or a light hearted clown, a dangerous enemy or a romantic rascal; it all depended entirely on his mood.

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Esmeralda climbed over the caved-in thatched roof to peer onto the street, searching over the houses for her prince. The twigs stabbed at her bare feet as she scrambled up to see the street. In the distance she could see the shinning of silver armour, sparkling like a star in the night. _Please let it be him _she thought desperately, he was like a pleasant taste in her mouth, she needed it again and again. Then she saw him. Mounting a white stallion and trotting like a war hero through the grim streets of Paris, lighting them up with his very presence. Without grace or modesty, she scrambled down from the roof landing silently on the slushy ground, feet before him. Phoesbus looked past her and continued to ride onwards through the city, without a second glance at the gypsy beauty. Esmeralda felt physically weak as he trotted by her while wrinkling up her face in distaste. Before she had time to gather her thoughts she felt someone grab her slender shoulder. Without any hesitation she twirled around and held a knife to his throat, holding the knife steadily from her long limb. Clopin chuckled at Esmeralda's uncharacteristic action, feeling better in Esmeralda's presence than in the writhing embrace of his last love Rose. Esmeralda relaxed her tense frame and hid her knife back under her skirt, conscious of the rant that was too follow .Esmeralda knew that Clopin worried about her safety, maybe too much for her liking but that's what families do. Clopin was like a brother to her, always there to pick her up whenever she fell, always cheering her up whenever she was lonely.

'Essy? Why are you out so late?' Clopin asked once she turned back to face him, averting his eyes from the gleaming blade strapped around her thigh. Esmeralda shrugged then flicked her silky hair over her shoulder.

'It was a nice night; I thought I'd enjoy a stroll 'she said while walking past him. Clopin scoffed watching her walk by; he remembered not too long ago when she was at his heels like a pup following everywhere he went, begging to join him. Now things had reversed. He start to walk with her, amazed that she couldn't feel the winters cold on her bare skin.

'Remember the days when you used to race me everywhere? Determined to beat me?' he said merrily, laughing at the memory. He heard Esmeralda laugh, that little tinkling of a bell laugh, before smiling coyly.

'I always won our races' she said confidently, as she trailed her dress through the mud. Clopin burst out laughing at her response in his characteristic smoky bellow.

'That's because I let you win Essy' He said once his laughter subsided. She turned on him with her eyebrow arched and smirk spreading across her face.

'Let's race now then, to the court of miracles' she said getting into a starting position, tossing back her hair from her face.

'Now?' Clopin asked surprised by her decision. She nodded eagerly.

'What's the matter? Afraid you might lose?' she laughing heartily at her comment. Clopin smiled at her cheeky remark, Esmeralda may be a lovely young woman now but she still had that childish streak running through her, something Clopin would never want her to be rid of. He draped his long hair over his shoulder and go into position as well waiting for the race to begin. 'Ready? 'She called over her shoulder. Clopin yelled back his answer before she yelled 'go'.

The ragged pair raced through the city's slums, hair flying wilding through the air and limps swiping around quickly. Esmeralda had the lead for three streets before Clopin took lead. He could have easily won the race as he tore through the filthy streets but as they neared the court he slowed down. Part of him couldn't help but let her win, for old times' sake at least. He watched as Esmeralda run past him mocking him playfully. He caught up with her just before the court's main entrance. She was running towards the entrance when he grabbed her by her small waist, whisking her off her feet and spinning her playfully in his arms. She screamed excitedly, kicking her legs in a bid to win the race. 'Clopin! Put me down!' she squealed trying not to giggle as he held her in his arms. Chuckling, he threw her gentle over his shoulder causing her to giggle.

'What's that Essy?' he asked pretending not to hear her pleas. She laughed repeating her demands. He walked towards the old door way to the court with her still over his shoulder. 'Ok, ok' he said putting her down in front of the door 'you win' he said with a mock defeated smile. Esmeralda clapped her little hands happily before standing on her toes and giving Clopin a quick gentle kiss on the cheek before entering the court. Clopin stood for a long while too shock or too smitten to move from the doorway. His cheek tingled after the brief touch of her satin lips, while the rest of his body remain strangely immobile. His pulse changed, even his breathing had changed under that brief kiss. He himself could barely believe that he was in love.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: sorry it has taken so long to update, only a small chapter BUT the next chapter is la fête des fous! :) . Thanks to __Undertakerlover 1306__, Mole, Oiseau de Nuit, cornique chaylor girl, **Xx-Angel-of-Shadows-xX, Undertakerlover 1306 and Chanpreet**_**_ ._**

Esmeralda hurriedly looked around her room, searching every inch of the small little cell. Please say I have something... she thought as she frantically looked under her mattress and in her mattress. But this offered nothing but straw. She groaned in frustration and threw herself on the mattress not believing her bad luck. Clopin, who was still reeling from the kiss, had decided now he would make his feelings known to Esmeralda. He could not go on pretending they did not exist and he thought himself a good suitor. He was after all, king of the Gypsies and to him that was something of an achievement as long as she didn't ask how this had happened. He stood tentatively outside of her door summoning his courage and thinking of what to say. He even laughed at himself. He was one of the most wanted criminals in Paris who had faced death and violence since boyhood, yet he was terrified of a young girl. He moved the orange curtain that served as a door to one side and entered Esmeralda's room, but was suddenly shocked by the sight he saw. Esmeralda was lying on her side on the grubby mattress with clear tears rolling down her soft cheeks. Clopin forgot his intention and in one swift movement he went from standing in the doorway to sitting beside her on the mattress.

'Esmeralda, what is it?' he asked, his voice as soft and low as a cat's purr. She stiffed a small pathetic sob and smiled up at him. How could she tell him that she was looking for some small reminder of her bright handsome Prince? how could she tell him that she was in love when he had warned her against it? she sighed getting up and hugging his sturdy waist, silently. Clopin, surprised by her sudden sadness and more surprised by her sudden movement, stood rigid, uncertain what to do. Should he be attacked, he would know what to do, but faced with tenderness baffled him. Such tenderness and genuine kindness were alien to him, every emotion or movement he felt or was directed towards him was turned putrid by the poor and dire life of the gypsies or by the displeasure of the french. Life among the gypsies, thieves and whores was much like living with a pack of wolves. They would band together and help each other but they would snarl and bite at each other too. None would exhibit anything like real kindness, that is, none but Esmeralda. He slowly and awkwardly wrapped his arms around her slender form and winced in pain and in pleasure as he felt her small body pressed against him, enveloped in his large strong arms. He felt a guilty and twisted taste of contentment as she felt her breast raise and fall against his own. But he held her so very lightly, not daring to hold her too close or touch her to hard, in fear or leaving any indentation or mark on her soft satin like skin. It was so torturous to have her so close to him so soon after his revelation, so wrong, uncomfortable and yet so could hardly breathe as his emotions mixed in his stomach, making him ill and uneasy with the situation. He cleared his throat, he needed to say something to distract his mind.

' You know what day it is tomorrow?' He said in quiet mummer, resting his chin gently on the top of her small head. She looked up at him as he lifted his chin away, her soft pink eyes gazing up at him with little interest. What did it matter what day it was? a day without seeing her Phoesbus was not worth having, she thought with a sullen pout. Clopin, unaware of her troubles, continued. ' Tomorrow is la fête des fous, Your favorite day.' He said with a small smile, hopeful the news would cheer her. She paused looking thoughtful for a moment before smiling brightly. Of course it was la fête des fous! and what's more, she could dance and Phoesbus would most certainly be there. He would watch her dance again, his eyes would be on her and her alone. She smile grew at the thought. She would be his bird of paradise again, dancing and twirling under a cloud of confetti and to the beat of a never ending band. It would be glorious and enchanting. It would have to be to please prince Phoesbus. She broke away from Clopin, her pretty face set in a frown. 'Esmeralda, what is it that troubles you. You know you can tell me anything...?' Clopin asked as she turned away from him. The distance between their bodies was painful now, he longed to wrap his arms around her slender waist, but dared not to choosing to clench and unclench his fists instead. Esmeralda paused before turning back towards him and then walked briskly past him. 'Esmeralda? where are you going?' He asked, worried by her sadness and sudden urgency.

'I must practice, Clopin. My dancing must be perfect!' Esmeralda explained before abruptly leaving. Clopin stood there, his fists clenched at his side watching her gave no explanation of her destination or thanks for his comforting leaving him irked and saddened. He wished that an opportunity to tell her his feelings would arise and soon, the embarrassment and longing were crippling him. Perhaps such an opportunity would arise at la fête des fous?


End file.
